Ben:???????????????Did you get the impression it was a happy marriage?
Kyle:??????????????I got the impression it was complicated. Most marriages are, though. Right? I’ve never been married. But that’s what I’d always thought. It seemed dramatic, to be honest. She was so young. I’m a good fifteen years older than her, and I remember thinking that it didn’t sound like either of them should have gotten married.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LUCY
I gave my number to Ben before leaving the diner yesterday, full of French toast and regret. I’ve never given a journalist my phone number (though some found the old one anyway), and I can’t shake the feeling that I made a serious error.
I’ve actually been wondering whether I’ve made a whole slew of serious errors lately. My entire fucking life for the past few days is a serious error, starting with my decision to fly across the country for my traitorous grandmother. My traitorous grandmother who spends about 80 percent (conservative estimate) of her day drunk. Her judgment clearly can’t be trusted.
My phone buzzes the next day, as I’m sitting in Mom’s office, staring at the poster above her desk that says Make Today So Awesome That Yesterday Gets Jealous. I look down to see a text from Ben.
Are you free this afternoon?
I am currently spending my days staring at a motivational quote that borders on toxic positivity, thinking up ways to write kissing scenes without using the word lips fifteen times on one page. Of course I’m free.
I type a one-word response: Why?
Want to meet my assistant? She’s in town.
I spin around in Mom’s desk chair. I do, surprisingly, want to meet his assistant. She sounded smart on the podcast last season. She called Ben out on his shit.
Okay. Where?
We’re in my room at the Plumpton Suites. Room 226.
Now?
Whenever you’re ready. We’ll be working for a while.
So, I put my laptop in my room and carry on with my terrible life decisions by driving across town to the nicest hotel in Plumpton.
Ben answers the door, dressed casually in jeans and a faded gray T-shirt.
“Hey.” He steps back so I can walk inside. The room is a basic suite with a kitchen and a small living room, two laptops on the coffee table. A pretty Black woman with a head of long, thick curls and a friendly smile, sits on the couch.
“Thanks for coming,” Ben says. “Paige didn’t believe that I actually got you to agree to an interview.”
Paige stands. “You cocky little shit. This is not going to help your ego at all.”
“Paige, this is Lucy. Lucy, this is my assistant, Paige. She hates me.”
“Sorry.” She’s addressing me now, her hand extended. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
“Please sit down and tell me how he got you to agree to talk to him.”
I sit down in the chair in the corner of the living room as Paige takes a seat on the couch again. Ben stays standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter.
“Can I get you anything?” he asks. “Water? Or coffee? That’s all I have. Oh, and whiskey.”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
Paige is studying me with such intensity that I wonder whether she’s trying to memorize my face so she can paint it later.
“Paige,” Ben says.
“What?”
“You’re doing that thing again.”
She blinks. “Right. Sorry. Is it rude to say you look different than the photos I’ve seen of you?”
“No.” I lean back in my chair. “The only photos that got around were the ones where I looked devious.”
“That’s what it is.” Ben snaps his fingers. “I kept thinking there was something about you that was surprising.”
“My lack of deviousness?”
“Or the expression, anyway. Your level of deviousness remains to be seen.”
“I suppose it does.”
Paige is staring at me again.
“Paige,” Ben says.
She doesn’t look away this time. “I can’t believe you’re sitting here talking to us. Do you listen to the podcast?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Okay.” Paige scoots forward on the couch, pressing her palms together in a prayer pose. I can feel the excitement rippling off her. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Paige, she’s not here for an interview,” Ben says. “I just asked her to drop by to say hi.”
He’s buttering me up for the interview. If I’m comfortable with him—and with Paige—I’m more likely to open up. Give him the good stuff.
I have no idea what the good stuff would be, but I suppose he can hold out hope.
“I know.” Paige drops her hands. “Just one, though. I have to know, because I have a theory.”
“Sure.” Why not? Fuck me up, Paige.
“I’ve never killed a woman, but I’m willing to try anything once.”
I shift, trying to ignore the voice. It’s getting louder lately.
That can’t be a good sign.
“Why did you punch Ross Ayers in high school?”
I blink, startled. I don’t know which question I was expecting, but that wasn’t it.
“Should have just fucking killed him. That would have been much more satisfying.”
“No one knows. We asked everyone,” Paige continues.
No, only Emmett knew, and he was always good at keeping a secret.
“He was taking up-skirt photos of a girl in one of our classes,” I say.
“I knew it.” Paige makes two fists like she’s either victorious or getting ready to punch someone. “I knew it was something like that.”
Ben looks startled, like this isn’t a theory she had shared with him.
“I think he saw me telling the teacher, because the photos were gone when they checked his phone,” I say. “I didn’t tell people because the girl he’d done it to begged me not to. She was embarrassed. So, I figured since he wasn’t getting punished, I’d take matters into my own hands.”
“Paige—”
“I know, call Ross to see if he’ll do another interview.” She’s typing on her phone.
“He’s just going to deny it.”
“Emmett knew, right?” Paige asks. “He got shifty when I asked him about it.”
Jesus. I can see why these people actually solved a case last season. They’re actually really good.
I don’t know whether I’m relieved or terrified.
“I have an idea—”
“I didn’t tell him who the girl was, but, yeah, he knew,” I admit, silencing the voice.
“I get the feeling Emmett is keeping a lot of your secrets?” Paige cocks her head. It’s more of a challenge than a question.
“I haven’t spoken to the man in five years.”
“Why not?” Ben asks.
“Shockingly, people stop calling when you’ve been accused of murdering a mutual friend.”
I think of the missed calls on my phone, the texts from Emmett that I ignored.
Paige is staring at me like she knows I’m lying.
I look away.
“Are you in touch with Matt?” Ben asks.
“I wasn’t, but I just saw him recently.”
“Are you going to see him again?”
I shrug. “He asked to get together, but I haven’t texted him back. Why?”
“He won’t do an interview. I thought maybe you could put in a good word.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Seriously? You want me to try to get Matt to do an interview?”
“Why not?”
“He thinks I did it.”
“Is he right?” Paige asks.
I shoot her an amused look to try to cover the swell of panic I feel. “You know what? Fine. No promises, but I’ll try.”
Listen for the Lie Podcast with Ben Owens
EPISODE FOUR—“THE AMNESIA DEFENSE”
Reporter (news broadcast): Breaking news tonight—a local wedding took a tragic turn when one of the guests, twenty-four-year-old Savannah Harper, was found dead in the woods not far from the festivities. A second young woman was found wandering nearby, also injured in the apparent attack, and is currently in stable condition at the hospital. Police are asking that anyone with information …
Savannah was pronounced dead at the scene after Gil—the jogger—found her. The coroner later determined that she died from a blow to the head. Two blows to the head, actually. Someone hit her with an unknown object twice, and then left her there to die.